


Flipped Script

by Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Alastor Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust Being Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Bodyswap, Caring Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Demisexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Dreamsharing, Dysphoria, Flashbacks, Fluff and Humor, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Magical Accidents, Memories, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Moral Ambiguity, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Smart Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Sweet, Trans Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Trans Male Character, Weird Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:13:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 20,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24958168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts/pseuds/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts
Summary: Angel Dust and Alastor wake up in each other's bodies. Both unsure how it even happened, they have to figure out how to switch back.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 167
Kudos: 1232





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> BodySwap fic cuz I need to write something fun and light.

Angel Dust was no stranger to hangovers. Partying too hard would always hurt in the morning and death didn't spare sinners from any sort of consequences. He also wasn't unused to waking up in unfamiliar rooms, in somebody else's bed. The only issue was he hadn't partied at all the night prior, having only had a few drinks and he distinctly remembered going to bed, early for his standards, in his own room. He hadn't left the hotel and he'd been relatively well behaved since Charlie said her mother was visiting. Angel hadn't _seen_ Lilith but he still wasn't about to risk pissing off the First Queen. He just counted himself grateful that if he hadn't seen her, then she probably hadn't seen the tipsy argument he'd had with the Radio Demon over the latter commenting on his lack of modesty.

Sitting up and planting a foot on the floor Angel was suddenly aware that his legs were shaped differently. He also noticed he was in a full set of pajamas, odd since Angel nearly always only slept in boxers. The next thing he noticed was the fact he only had two hands, black skin fading to grey past the wrists and bright red claws and keratin-covered knuckles. Those hands were familiar enough, but they sure as fuck weren't Angel's.

"Oh what the fuck?!" Angel squawked, more surprised than he should have been at the voice and filter also not being his.

A few floors down Alastor found himself waking to frantic knocking at his door. Odd, usually he was awake before everyone else. He tried pushing himself up, but whatever he had his weight on squalled and wriggled away. He faceplanted right back into a pink pillow that absolutely was not his. Confused, he looked around the room to see more pink. He barely had time to register what that could mean before the knocking started back up. 

"Yes! I'm coming. Have patience." Alastor said and noticed his filter absent and voice strange. He cleared his throat and snapped his fingers with the intent to change into his usual clothes. Nothing happened. Also that was not his hand. Hands. Several. "Angel Dust?!" Alastor said in surprise.

"Yeah somethin's fucky." Alastor heard his own voice from the other side of the door.

He rushed to open it, nearly falling from the oddity of new legs with the joints in odd places. Still he managed pulling the door open and letting the other through. Angel passed the threshold quickly, shutting the door behind him. 

"You couldn't have changed into something more appropriate before running through the hallways?" Alastor asked, trying to wave a hand toward the pajamas. The hands he was trying to operate however, seemed to be struggling over which wanted to actually perform the gesture.

"You _want_ me changin' your clothes?" Angel reasoned. "You're one to fuckin' talk. Put a shirt on." 

Alastor briefly glanced at himself, finding Angel's body clad only in underwear. With all of the fur he hadn't even noticed he was nearly nude. He staggered to the desk and opened a drawer in search of clothes, then promptly slammed it shut as he realized that it was not a _clothing_ drawer.

"Closet." Angel corrected, rolling his eyes and stepping over to the walk-in. It opened before he even touched it. "Huh, guess I have your magic now." 

"That is a horrifyingly terrible thing." Alastor deadpanned. "You don't know how to use my magic."

"Yeah, and you don't know how to use my legs." Angel shot back, then snickered. "Or arms."

"You have too many." Alastor said dryly. "It's perfectly reasonable to be uncoordinated with limbs you aren't used to having and muscle memory only helps with so much."

"Think of it like walkin' on your toes. Ankles are way up so its like permanent heels." Angel advised, picking past his usual suggestive daywear for the worn out comfy clothes that covered him more. He knew his usual outfit probably would make Alastor feel too exposed. Angel liked showing off his chest and legs, but he knew Alastor always kept everything but his face and hands covered so a sweater and lounge pants would have to do. "For my arms just focus on the top ones like its normal and put the lower ones in a pocket or keep 'em crossed til you get used to shit."

"I have no intention of getting used to _this_." Alastor huffed, then stumbled to catch the clothing tossed his way. 

Angel passed him to get to the dresser, opening a different drawer than the one Alastor had tried, picking something out and tossing it as well while Alastor was busy picking up the clothes he'd fumbled. Picking up the new thing, he squawked.

"Why would you give me a brazier?" Alastor squawked.

"Because you can't sit still for more than two seconds and I jiggle. I rock a c-cup and that shit hurts." Angel answered.

"...It's not fur?" Alastor asked, having assumed Angel's voluminous chest was purely fluff.

"It's not _all_ fur." Angel said with a shrug. "You need help puttin' that on?"

"I can dress myself." Alastor said, rolling his eyes.

A few minutes later and Alastor was dejectedly allowing Angel to clip the bra closed behind his back due to not being able to figure it out himself. He was curled in on himself, body language pouting even past the grin that looked even more forced on Angel's face than it did on his own. The shirt and pants Alastor did handle himself, the extra arms still giving him trouble but not enough to stop him. Angel could practically feel the embarrassment coming off of Alastor in waves and he didn't feel like making it worse. It was an uncomfortable situation after all. 

While Alastor dressed, Angel went about refilling Fat Nuggets's food and water bowls. The pig themself was actively avoiding him, preferring to hide under the bed near Alastor's currently more familiar legs which sort of hurt. Angel understood that Nuggets didn't know that his owner had switched with the Radio Demon. Pigs were smart but even a human would be confused by the situation; Angel sure was. 

"You should get dressed too." Alastor suggested. "Before the others wake up. I will not be seen outside of my room in my nightclothes."

Angel agreed, finishing his pet-related chore, and hurrying back to Alastor's room. He found Alastor's usual suit neatly folded in a drawer and set those out on the bed before pulling off the pajamas. He felt an odd pinch toward the base of his spine when the pants came off and twisted to try seeing the cause, finding out Alastor apparently kept a short tail hidden away. He didn't investigate further though, not wanting to cross any lines despite the new body. He dressed quickly, if perhaps a little less put-together than Alastor usually looked, then returned to his own room so he and Alastor could talk and come up with a plan of action to solve this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vaggie knows what happened and soon the rest of the staff does too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaggie died 2014, theres no way she hasnt seen Freaky Friday

Vaggie realized something was weird immediately as she entered the kitchen and heard the phrase "Heya toots," come out of the Radio Demon.

"What the fuck." Vaggie said, looking up at Alastor who was cradling holding a cup of coffee that for once wasn't as dark as the void.

"Well put." Said Angel Dust, holding a black coffee of his own carefully, though shakily, with all four hands. "There seems to have been a mix-up. Is Charlie awake yet?"

"I don't think I'm awake yet." Vaggie sighed, fixing them both with a focused eye.

Alastor did not slouch, consume sweets, or say things like toots. Angel Dust did not cover himself so carefully, enunciate his words so carefully, or really do anything at all carefully. He also didn't smile before at least ten in the morning and it was only just past eight. Instead they were acting like each other. With a start she realized fairly quickly that they _were_ each other. 

"Holy shit did you two get Freaky-Fridayed?" Vaggie asked, then shook her head. "It's too early for this."

"I don't know what that means." Angel Dust admitted, shrugging Alastor's shoulders.

"It's tuesday." Alastor supplied, also not understanding the reference.

"Fucking old…" Vaggie muttered. 

A few hours later everyone in the hotel knew because it wasn't like the boys could very well hide it. Not that they were trying. Any attempts to imitate the other's behavior quickly devolved into borderline insulting impressions and Alastor could tell that certainly wasn't going to cut it.

Charlie inspected them both but admitted sadly that she wasn't sure her magic could fix the problem. She did promise to do some research and see if she could figure something out, but for now the two would just have to stay in the hotel to avoid trouble with other, less trustworthy demons finding out.

"Shiiiiit," Angel whined, "I have work tonight."

"You are _not_ degrading my body." Alastor warned.

"It's my body that's the moneymaker, genius." Angel pointed out. 

"I am not--!"

"Nobody's gonna make you!" Angel huffed. "Just Val's gonna be pissy."

"Can't you just tell him you and Alastor got switched around?" Charlie asked.

"Bad idea lettin' Val know." Angel said, oddly stern. Alastor almost asked why that would be such an issue but Angel answered the unasked question by continuing. "He's buddies with Vox."

Alastor's smile became more of a sneer, odd on Angel's face. Angel tapped Alastor's claws on the counter he was leaning on. He could get away with taking a day off. But he didn't know how long this weird little switcheroo would last. He could cash in some vacation time if not for the fact he already got a solid week off every month for biological reasons. He didn't want to just quit; He liked his job. He sighed, deciding just to play it by ear and texting his pimp that he'd be out of commision for the night.

"We're off the hook for now." Angel reported. "Pun intended." 

"I would prefer not to be on the hook ever." Alastor replied, sounding just a bit irritated before he relaxed. "Thank you." 

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Angel said, opening the refrigerator. "Fuck, I'm hungry. When's the last time you ate?"

"Last night before bed. It won't help much." Alastor said dismissively, nudging the fridge closed again with a foot since he'd at least got Angel's legs to be manageable. He opened the freezer to pull out a wax paper package of raw meat he had stored there earlier, hidden toward the back. "But feel free to try."

"Ewww…" Angel said, wincing and Alastor's ears folding back without him even thinking about it. "Who the fuck is that?"

"Don't you worry about that." Alastor tutted. "You're starving and I'm not so clearly our curses are physical and not mental. Raw demon will at least keep you calm. Regular food does nothing. Now, so I'm not surprised, your curse is…?"

"You'll feel it." Angel assured. "If it happens you'll know."

"Yours isn't a constant?" 

"Nah. But hey you're a generally happy guy. Probably won't even happen." Angel shrugged.

"Lucky." Alastor said dryly. "I would still like to know in advance so I know what to expect. I detest surprises." 

"Mine might just be mental anyway." Angel reasoned, clearly deflecting. "It's fuckin' personal, okay?"

"We could not be in a more personable scenario with each other than as we are right now." Alastor rolled his eyes. "Fine. Let me be surprised." He shoved the meat forward. "Eat. You don't want to go more hungry than necessary for long. It will get ugly if you do. My key?"

"Oh, yeah…" Angel remembered, and the two traded keys so they could get into their own rooms.

Angel ate, only waiting long enough for the meat to thaw halfway. He ate odds and ends from the fridge while he waited but Alastor had been right. It didn't help in the slightest. The raw demon meat did help, however, even if it was only a slight shift from painful starvation to mildly famished. It was a bit gross, eating something he knew used to be a person, but he repeated an old mantra to himself; Don't knock it 'til you try it twice.

Alastor headed to his own room immediately because he needed to be alone to properly process. As well as that he needed to practice with the extra hands. There was no telling how long he would be stuck and he was reeling enough without the embarrassment of dropping nearly everything. He sat on the floor, half falling on the way down, and dumped out his sewing kit. Picking a hand he put the bits and pieces back in the kit before starting again with a different hand, over and over until he started to get the hang of it. While he did this he thought of what to do. Maybe, he hoped, if Angel could master Alastor's magic they could fix it themselves. If not…

Alastor sighed heavily, letting the smile drop since he was alone. He wasn't going to dwell on the negative. Either Charlie would figure out how to fix this or Alastor would teach Angel how to use his magic and they would figure it out. There was always an answer. If they could switch once, they could switch back. For the time being, Alastor would learn to use the spider's numerous hands and, after startling himself with Angel's appearance in the bathroom mirror as he passed, avoid reflections in general.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel is trying to take things in stride. Alastor is trying to fix it. Both are experiencing side effects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creature/monster/demon biology is a fun hobby of mine and I love Hazbin Hotel for giving me so much to think about.

Angel's phone kept buzzing, a slew of notifications from Valentino asking why he needed the off time ranging from concern to anger to bribery and wondering if he had made Angel angry at him somehow. The pimp even tried calling Angel, but since Angel definitely couldn't answer with Alastor's voice he let it go to voicemail. Valentino never left voicemails, believing anything he said was important enough to be said in the moment. Then he just kept getting texted about why he hadn't answered the call. He finally just texted back that he was sick and his throat hurt so he didn't want to talk. Valentino then asked if he'd found a dick big enough to rupture his throat. Angel snorted at that but jokingly answered with a positive. 

A tiny snort answered him from somewhere under the bed. Nuggets was still hiding from him; Animals didn't like Alastor much and that had sadly carried over. Angel hoped Nuggets would get used to the change if it ended up being a prolonged thing. Angel hoped it wouldn't be permanent. 

Oh well. A few hours of sulking was enough. If he had to be in Alastor's body for a while he'd need to get used to it. He sat up, looking over to his vanity. He'd opened a door without touching it, surely he could do more than that. Deciding on his makeup box, he tried to get it to move by just thinking of moving it. Nothing. Taking Alastor's example he tried snapping his fingers. Still nothing.

"Oh come on… Can't be too hard. Move." Angel urged, glaring at the box and trying to give it a mental shove. 

There was a solid minute of nothing happening even though Angel was concentrating very hard on it, before he finally tossed his hands up and growled in annoyance. The box very quickly collapsed in on itself, then flew off of the vanity and hit the wall with a clatter.

"Oh shit." Angel said, both surprised and concerned. He hopped off of the bed, picking up the box and assessing the damage. A lot of pallets and brushes were crushed now, much to his disappointment. "Dammit, that shit's expensive." He plucked out the few bits that were salvageable, setting those back on the vanity. 

Looking up at the mirror was an odd experience. Angel was used to seeing himself a bit differently than what pictures, videos, and especially mirrors showed him. He'd also spent more nights than he'd like to admit wishing he was someone else when he was alive, a wish that was oddly granted when he died and dropped into Hell. Still there was a difference between waking up a spider and suddenly being somebody that he knew. Even weirder was seeing his own bare emotions displayed on Alastor's face that was for once not smiling. Instead his brow was furrowed, ears turned backward since those seemed to have a mind of their own, and a bit of a frown at the mouth.

Angel tried a grin, but it didn't look as sadistically gleeful as Alastor usually did. Angel gave up on that, but made light of it by seeing how many expressions Alastor was capable of and just didn't use, chomping those beartrap teeth at himself and being generally silly about it. It was the little things, after all. Little joys and little annoyances always lasted longer than the larger excitements and hurts. Cheering himself up even granted him some new information; Alastor's little tail was the sort that wagged.

Alastor was keeping busy, looking through his grimoires for a solution. He had several spellbooks, some useful, some more theoretical, a few honestly useless but still fun to pick through. So far he was finding nothing relevant to the situation. The closest thing he could find was something that would allow for sharing a body temporarily in a fashion similar to possession, fusing two bodies, or for a deceased spirit to trade soulspace with a living host which wasn't at all useful with both he and Angel being dead. 

At least he had gotten the arms mostly under control, though if he wasn't paying attention the lower set either hung limply as dead weight or, more annoyingly, started to wander chestward. Alastor considered just removing the extra appendages, going to far as to verbally threaten them with amputation if they wouldn't behave. He blamed Angel; Clearly muscle memory had something to do with it. Later, he asked Angel about it after meeting downstairs at the bar and the other just shrugged. 

"I got built in stressballs. Shit's stressful. I don't mind, if that's what's got you bothered." Angel permitted, then pointed a claw with a smirk. "You're doin' it now, by the way." 

" _I_ mind it!" Alastor clarified, swatting and then pointedly sitting on the extra hands.

"I told you just keep 'em crossed or stick 'em in your pockets." Angel shrugged. "You could give 'em somethin' repetitive to do."

"I do sew on occasion…" Alastor admitted, taking a sip of the drink Husk had passed to him without needing to be asked. The glass came away with a quickly drying string of silk attached. Alastor squinted at tin confusion and pulled it away only for more to be produced. "Whath."

Angel, unhelpfully, started laughing as Alastor continued to pull silk from his borrowed mouth with increasing confusion and just a fraction of disgust.

Husk looked over and scowled for a moment, then let out a snicker of his own. "Now who's the fucking clown?"

"Thtill you." Alastor lisped. "It won't thtop." He said to Angel, who was far too amused.

"Scrape your teeth on your tongue and it'll cut off. Just swallow the rest." Angel explained, having had to figure it out on his own decades prior.

"Gross." Husk said gruffly, then decided to go back to ignoring the two other demons.

"So," Angel started. "I been givin' you advice. How do I get your magic workin' without breakin' everything?"

"It's an ingrained thing." Alastor answered. "Instinctive, I suppose. Really it depends on what you're trying to do with it. I find it easier to manage with minor bloodletting. Pain is a good focus."

"...That's kinky." Angel snarked, not finding the explanation very enlightening at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor takes a walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for catcalling, violence, and valentino being a shit

Alastor needed to get out of the hotel. Just for a little while. Just for a walk. He wasn't sure why but he suddenly felt trapped within the walls, his usually restless energy somehow made worse by the skin that wasn't even his. He was also shaking and nauseous, which could be attributed to Angel's withdrawals which weren't quite as bad as Alastor had expected them to be. Still it was something he hadn't signed up for. Really, he hadn't signed up for any of this. Alastor told Charlie he was going to the nearest bookstore to look for more research materials and promptly left. 

Usually when Alastor went outside, demons would part from his path like the sea for Moses. Now, with the appearance of someone who didn't inspire fear on sight, Alastor could barely walk a block without someone bumping into him. It was a novelty. And Alastor could almost appreciate the fact others were treating him with some sense of mundanity.

"Hey baby!" A large truck passed, a demon practically hanging out of the window as it passed. "How much for two of us?"

Nevermind, it was annoying, Alastor decided quickly and pointedly ignored the catcaller. Unfortunately it was far from a one-time occurrence.

"Nice sweater, mind if I try it on?" 

"That's a new look!"

"How far those legs go?"

Alastor was beginning to regret going outside at all. He was doing his best to ignore everyone trying to get his attention, or rather Angel's attention, and missed being run away from in a panic. It got even worse when some random toad sort of demon put his hand on Angel's borrowed rear and of course Alastor managed to get all four arms to finally work in tandem to break the toad's arm, shattering the elbow.

"Fuck! I was gonna pay!" The toad protested.

"I just wanted to go for a walk!" Alastor replied, pressing the arm in his grasp even further the wrong was to dislocate the shoulder as well. And then he pulled, ignoring the scream as the arm popped off entirely with a wet ripping sound.

"Angel Cake?" Came a voice Alastor was unfortunately familiar with, coming from the open window of a car. "Thought you said you was _sick_. Here I was bringing you flowers and you're out here playing hooky the wrong way. What the fuck are you doing?"

Alastor turned to see Valentino within the back seating area of a limo. He inwardly cursed his bad luck and wracked his brain to remember how Angel usually spoke to his boss. No way he was comfortable emulating, he decided quickly. 

"What, no answer for Daddy?" Valentino asked, and the door opened. "If you're well enough to maim people, you're well enough to work. Get in the car. You can even still have the flowers if you're good." 

"No." Alastor said plainly, quickly trying to walk away. 

Unfortunately even though Angel's body was tall and could move quickly due to sheer leg length, Valentino was even taller and swiftly left the car and passed Alastor to block the sidewalk.

"You don't fucking walk away from me." Valentino said sternly, shoving Alastor roughly against the brick of the corner store they were nearest to.

Alastor fought the urge to roll Angel's eyes. He didn't have his magic right now and starting a fight wouldn't go well in the long run anyway. Briefly, he considered walking into traffic to escape the situation but he felt that solution was temporary and probably would actually only cause further problems. 

"What's got into you?" Valentino asked, switching his tone from angry to sweet before going right back to condescending. "What, you _actually_ got a sore throat?"

That was as good of an excuse as any to not speak too much, so Alastor nodded. 

"Then what the fuck are you doing out?" Valentino asked, right back to sweet as he reached out toward Alastor's face. Alastor quickly flinched away. 

Valentino practically snarled at such a blatant rejection, tender hand becoming aggressive as it switched tracks from a caring touch to the forehead to a rough clamp at the jaw, hard enough to bruise even though that wouldn't show well under fur. The pimp didn't even hesitate to treat what he perceived to be Angel so harshly, which let Alastor know that situations like this must be common for the spider. 

"Sweetheart you best remember real quick who took care of you when you fell down here and get your head screwed on right before you make Daddy mad." Valentino warned.

A spark of anger flowed through Alastor at that, and suddenly he had a pistol in his hand. He usually wasn't a fan of guns, too quick for the most part, but if this was the shape Angel's anger could take then Alastor would be glad to use it. He was having a bad day anyway. Before Valentino had time to react, he wedged the muzzle of the gun between his face and the hand, separating the two and shooting cleanly through the latter.

"You little bitch!" Valentino howled, grasping his injured hand.

Alastor didn't wait for the pimp to recover, turning to run back to the hotel. If this was the sort of thing he would have to deal with then he was better off just not going outside at all. Crossing the protective wards around the hotel, feeling instantly safer and able to think clearer, he realized he had had only a small glimpse of what Angel put up with near to daily. He had some newfound respect for the spider.

Angel himself was in his room, still trying to get Nuggets to let him pet them when there was a knock. He sat up, having been halfway laying on the floor to look under the bed.

"It's open!" He called, turning.

Alastor opened the door and considered how odd it was to see himself for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. He didn't get the chance before Angel was reacting to the state of him.

"Oh fuck, is that blood?" Angel asked and covered his nose, not used to having one anymore. "The smell… Damn it Al, I'm hungry enough in general without you comin' in here smellin' like a damn steak."

"It isn't your blood." Alastor chuckled but didn't apologize. "I needed fresh air. Believe it or not this was entirely the other demon's fault. I don't enjoy being grabbed."

"You went out lookin' like me?" Angel asked. 

"Yes. A grave mistake I will not be repeating." Alastor confirmed, before getting to what he actually wanted to ask. "Are you dating your boss?"

"Excuse me?!" Angel asked, surprised. "Where the fuck is this coming from?"

"He saw me and assumed I was you. I got away from him quickly but his behavior was a bit… He seems to think he's entitled to your affection when it's sorely undeserved." Alastor explained.

"Shit, there goes my sick excuse." Angel sighed. "No, we ain't datin' but we fool around. It's complicated. He's nice most of the time. If he isn't then it's usually my fault. Anyway he doesn't hit me so who gives a shit?"

"The bar can't really be that low for you. I'm starting to regret only shooting his hand." Alastor muttered.

"You fuckin' _what?!_ " Angel gawked.

"I figured out how your guns work!" Alastor answered cheerfully.


	5. Chapter 5

**Daddy Val❤️: Don't bother coming back to the studio until you can behave. I'm throwing your shit out.**

Angel sighed, reading the text for a third, fourth, and fifth time. He hadn't been completely fired but there was a strong underlying suggestion of it being a close thing. He probably wasn't going to be the favorite anymore and definitely was going to lose his place in the top spot in the industry. It was good that he didn't have to go back to work any time soon, considering the switch, but it was still a blow to the ego. 

"If Val fires me for real over this shit I'm gonna figure out how to pull up your cane just to shove it down my throat while you're still me."

"That seems excessive." 

"You'd think, but I killed my gag reflex ages ago. I could probably get the whole thing and out the other end if I shove it hard enough." Angel huffed.

"Intestines don't work that way." Alastor dismissed. "You would just rip through everything. Besides, isn't getting away from your boss the real reason you came here?" 

"I came here because my landlord was a shit and I was about a week from eviction. Nobody likes their boss anyway." Angel rolled his currently red eyes, lamenting the fact he only had one set of arms to cross. "I like my _job._ "

"Then work for yourself!" Alastor suggested. "Though not while we're like this, obviously."

Angel conceded to let it go. While he was upset at potentially losing his job there was a small part of him that was relieved. It could have wound up worse. For the time being he would leave it alone and try to enjoy the vacation.

Later that night, after finally getting Nuggets to tolerate him enough for a walk after some hefty bribery with treats, Angel realized that there was a hitch in his usual nightly routine. That being, he usually bathed before bed. Even that morning when he had changed clothes, underwear had stayed on and it was the long sort, and Alastor didn't have fur to cover much. 

It wasn't that Angel wasn't curious about Alastor's body, a curiosity that could easily be sated in the current state of things. But Angel also valued privacy and understood that while he himself would streak stark naked through the hotel if he didn't think someone else would take issue with it, Alastor was modest to a fault. After long deliberation, Angel decided the easiest solution to respect the other's privacy and not have to sleep in the stress-sweat of the day was to just cut the light off and shower in the dark.

He still had to touch to wash properly but he kept it clinical for the most part, though he did linger on the spaces where he could feel bones too easily under paper-thin skin. If not for the fact he now understood that it wouldn't do any good, he might have suggested Alastor eat more. He also paused, just slightly over the crests of hipbones while trying to make sure everywhere was rinsed. 

"Damn, Al, you got a nice set of handlebars." Angel said, knowing Alastor would have no way of knowing he'd said it. He then scolded himself, shaking his head. "Don't be a creep…" 

Angel finished and dressed quickly, having left fresh clothes for himself on the bathroom counter. It hit a bit of a hitch when he tried to pass the shirt from one set of hands to another that he no longer had out of habit, only for the shirt to drop to the floor. 

"Damn it…" Angel muttered, bending to try to find it, only to knock Alastor's antlers painfully against the counter. "Fuck!"

He managed to get through most of the rest of his nightly routine with no further complications, brushing Alastor's teeth twice because that was an area in major need of attention, then laid down. A few minutes later he was right back up, a lack of distractions forcing him to notice the fact his stomach felt like it was trying very hard to digest his spine. There was also a weight on his chest, for once not due to tits since Alastor didn't have those, but more of an internal weight. Like something pulling on his sternum.

He considered his hidden stash up inside the vent in the ceiling, just as a boost to get drowsy, but Alastor probably wouldn't appreciate drug use in his body and Angel wasn't sure how he would even reach that vent without spider-climbing. Best to leave it for now and put his unwanted energy into speedwalking laps around his room. 

No wonder Alastor never stopped moving, if this was the sort of energy he had all the time. At least after Angel had worked it out the energy faded but the hunger was still being a thorn and the Pull had only become more pronounced. He'd put off eating any more demons for as long as he could stand to, but he hoped the Pull would be gone after a decent sleep.

After about an hour and a half of staring at the wall, there was a knock at his door. He got to open it, looking up to see his own face with a forced grin. Oddly, Angel noticed the Pull lessen.

"Are you feeling this?" Alastor asked, taking the open door as invitation enough to enter.

"Uh…" Angel said, unsure of what Alastor was referring to.

"Here," Alastor said, placing a palm flat against the chest Angel was borrowing. 

The Pull stopped almost entirely, and Alastor hummed thoughtfully. 

"Oh, that." Angel nodded. "Started a bit ago for me. You too?" 

"I think our souls need to be with the correct body." Alastor theorized, glancing downward when Nuggets came to lay down on his foot but otherwise ignoring the pig. "We probably shouldn't be apart for long…" 

Angel could see the sense in that, and so he suggested what he thought was the most logical solution for the time being.

"You wanna sleep with me?" Angel offered.

Alastor couldn't blush under Angel's fur, but Angel didn't miss how the other visibly fluffed up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a very close sleepover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweetish.

Angel hadn't expected Alastor to actually accept the invitation, but Alastor flopped right into the bed. 

"Just sleep." Alastor said sternly. "No funny business."

"Duh," Angel agreed, feeling somewhat insulted but not at all surprised. "What, you think I'd jump my own body?"

"Wouldn't you?" Alastor challenged.

"Well yeah," Angel admitted, laughing. "But not with _you_ in the driver's seat. I don't know which way you swing but trust me I know it ain't my way."

It took a bit of adjustment. Alastor didn't like being touched and certainly didn't like feeling trapped so Angel took the space nearest the wall so Alastor could have the clearest path to the door. Alastor didn't quite admit to being nervous about sharing a bed, but Angel was fairly good at reading people and understood the need for a clear escape route even in mundane settings. 

They had started out back to back, but while Angel had only just managed to get the sense of restlessness out of his system, Alastor kept tossing and turning. As much as Angel could usually tolerate, he was already a bit irritated from the day.

"Will you pick a side already?" Angel huffed. 

"I usually sleep on my stomach if I sleep at all." Alastor explained, shifting around.

_Oh._

Angel had had many years to get used to his body as a spider and had had his chest even when he was still human. He'd had time to become used to it, even if he didn't always like it at first. When he did actually start liking it it had been from a sense of spite and a need to not let anyone else dictate what it meant to be a man for him. For Alastor it was brand new, and probably even more of an upset. To make it worse, Alastor couldn't even sleep the way he was comfortable.

"You're still a man, you know." Angel said quietly, just in case it was something the other needed to hear.

"...I know." Alastor replied.

"Here, face me?" Angel said, not bothering to turn around but reaching an arm back. 

Dubious, Alastor took it, and Angel had the novelty experience of pulling his own arm around himself. Alastor allowed it, stiffening As Angel shifted backward to bring their bodies even closer.

"There. Pressure on your belly but not your tits." Angel said lightly, knowing it would only be a big deal if they made it into one.

Alastor grunted, taking the hint to not make it weird. He finally settled and both managed to keep an almost comfortable silence even though both were hyperaware of the other. If not for the fact it did get rid of the uncomfortable need to be close, Alastor would have left. Without the Pull he wouldn't have agreed to such close contact in the first place, but he counted it a mercy that he didn't feel trapped. 

Angel would be lying if he were to say he hadn't admired Alastor's appearance from a safe distance. Who wouldn't? Still it was interesting to go from staying at least five feet away from the Radio Demon to being in his skin while his own body was separate and spooning him. It was almost nice but in the strangest way. 

His eyes focused on Alastor's hands, mostly just because he didn't feel like closing his eyes yet for some reason. He'd noticed the keratin-covered knuckles earlier but now he took note of the raised veins in the backs of the dark hands. Definitely working hands, but with the long fingers of an artist or a musician. Angel wondered if Alastor played an instrument, since he already knew the other was inclined toward music. He didn't ask, but was drawn out of his thought by some repetitive movement that he had missed when it had started.

"Not that I mind but if you're gonna try dry-humpin' me I'd rather you _ask._ " Angel said dryly.

"I am not _humping_ you." Alastor said, audibly annoyed at the accusation. "...I'm rocking." He admitted in a softer tone, though the movement stopped. 

Angel's mind blanked for a moment at that, and the static that had been mostly quiet all day form the sound of a tire-squeal of a car stopping too suddenly to give sound effect to the reaction. Who knew the Big Bad Voodoo Deer would be in a habit of rocking himself to sleep? It certainly would be one useful way to do something with the nearly endless well of energy. 

Angel snorted and patted the white-furred hand near his shoulder. "That's fuckin' cute." 

"I'm not--" Alastor began to protest.

"Rock away then." Angel dismissed.

Alastor started up again and with the air cleared it didn't take long for the motion to lull both of them to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get their day started early and go on an errand run.

Angel woke first, Alastor's body clearly used to waking up at what would have been dawn if Hell's sky had a sun. His own fuzzy body curled around him was still out like a light, which didn't seem fair. But Angel was used to working late and sleeping in so it made sense. Still, he didn't want to be the only one away before five in the morning so he gave Alastor a shove off as he sat up.

"I think that's enough cuddlin' for one night." Angel said.

Alastor groaned, scrubbing a set of hands over his face. He rolled over and gradually left the bed in a drowsily shuffling mass, taking the blanket with him only to sink to the floor. 

"Yeah, that's about right." Angel said sagely, knowing he would be grumpy to be woken so early if not for the fact he was up naturally. "Come on. Your stomach's trying to digest your liver and I'm not leavin' you in my room all by yourself. Breakfast is happening." 

Alastor huffed, dropping the blanket and standing. "You already ate what I had stocked." He said. "We'll have to get more, among other errands."

"We?" Angel asked. "I thought your first outing as me put you off goin' out at all." 

"Alone yes." Alastor agreed. "But I am usually very intimidating so for the time being _you_ are intimidating."

Angel nodded, conceding that it made sense. "Okay so what errands?"

"I didn't get to the bookshop I wanted to check for solutions, so that is one. Another is we will need to hunt."

"I'd rather not." Angel groaned.

"Cannibal market, then. You're no fun." Alastor turned, tugging at the hem of his pajamas. "I would also like to visit a tailor. Not that your nightclothes aren't charming but I would prefer to look a bit more dignified during the day."

"I got plenty of clothes." Angel snorted.

"Provocative ones." Alastor huffed. 

"Yeah I get it. You ain't advertising." Angel chuckled. "Food first though. I'm gonna puke if I don't eat somethin' soon." 

"Your own fingers will do in a pinch if it gets that bad." Alastor said, his cheerful demeanor returning the more awake he was.

"You're fuckin' nuts." Angel said, not wanting to know if that was something Alastor had done. He wouldn't put it past the Radio Demon, but it still wasn't fun to think about. 

Exitting the room together earned a giggle from Niffty, as well as a blink that was executed in a way that seemed like she had tried to wink but clearly had too few eyes for it. Angel snorted and shook his head.

"You behave." Alastor scolded her.

Alastor was pleased to find that he was correct. Having Angel with him functioned as a very good repellant of unwanted attention. There were several onlookers who paused to stare, but none brave enough to dare making advances on the Radio Demon and his present company. It didn't take them long to reach the market, and Angel was quick to scarf down the first slab of raw meat he was handed as Alastor busied himself with loading a large bag with more for later. 

"This is fuckin' disgusting." Angel muttered through a mouthful, not wanting to be too loud and give them away to anyone who didn't need to hear. Luckily everyone seemed keen on giving them space and staying out of their business.

"I don't mind it. It's why I'm here after all." Alastor dismissed easily. "The hunger is manageable so long as you aren't squeamish."

The stop by the bookshop was a quick one, Alastor knowing right where to go, grabbing a few spellbooks he didn't own already, and flipping through the indexes to check if they had any soul-specific spells within. It was useful, he reflected, to still be able to be holding grocery bags and still have hands left over to read with. Less useful was the fact he had grown hot out of seemingly nowhere, with no discernible cause.

"I don't suppose your curse is an unwarranted sense of lust, is it?" Alastor asked, picking through a book that was focused on the study of curses in general.

"No, it ain't that." Angel shrugged, but still didn't say what his actually was.

"Ah," Alastor acknowledged, putting the book back on the shelf, deliberating, and then picking it up again to bag it. "Not your curse, just you being overly sensitive then. That will be annoying."

"Sensi--" Angel sputtered, realizing what Alastor was implying. "You can't seriously be horny over _books._ "

"It's not directed at the books." Alastor clarified. "Really not directed at anything. I think it could be just from sheer boredom."

Angel thought about that, then shrugged. It made sense; Angel did tend to fill boredom with masturbation if he had nothing better to do. "Okay yeah, that sounds like me. Hey at least you don't gotta worry about poppin' a boner in public for now."

"I hadn't had to worry about that before, either." Alastor said dryly, leading them out of the store without paying. He never paid for much, most demons too afraid of him to charge even though he had the money to spare, and having his face around helped keep that status quo even if he wasn't the one wearing it. "Never had much of an inclination so it was never an issue."

"Oh." Angel said thoughtfully. Clearly switched bodies would come with switched sex drives. It was a case of hormones, after all. "Well I got a pretty high _inclination_ so, uh, sorry about that."

"I can tell." Alastor said through gritted teeth. "I'm sure it will pass soon."

"You need to find a bathroom?" Angel asked, earning a hard stare that made him feel foolish for asking. 

"I have no intention of touching your body any more than absolutely necessary." Alastor said sternly, then repeated. "It will pass."

"Right." Angel said, deciding to change the subject before Alastor got too annoyed. "So, clothes."

"I have an old friend who specializes!" Alastor brightened considerably, leading the way and glad for the distraction. "She may even know something of our situation. Oh we should have gone to her first! Slipped my mind, how silly of me."

Angel smiled and followed. "Okay but after we're goin' where I wanna go. Three to none ain't fair."

"We'll see!" Alastor laughed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief visit to Rosie!

Rosie's Emporium, formerly shared with Franklin, was a lot like if a shopping mall was dedicated to antiques, vintage fashion, and very old appliances. Angel had never been before, being the sort of riff-raff the higher classy sort prefered to keep out unless they were on the arm of someone who had at least a bit of a respectable reputation.

In place of workers, there were faceless wooden mannequins hung on strings like marionettes keeping stock, tidying up, or generally milling about and watching the shoppers within. A few actually had the gall to try shooing Alastor out, mistaking him for Angel, so Angel spoke up.

"It's alright. He's with me." Angel said, doing his best to emulate Alastor's accent since he had the voice already. 

"Well that's humiliating." Alastor sighed. 

"Yeah, you get used to it." Angel chuckled. "You're friends with Rosie?" 

"You could say that." Alastor deflected, then squinted hard at the mannequin nearest him. "Franklin, is that you in there old boy? I thought you died again! Lucky Rosie likes you, hm? She might've pushed you out the window with your soul still in otherwise. Is she around?"

The mannequin addressed took a startled step back, looking between Angel and Alastor before shaking its head in confusion. It then gestured toward a stairway, and Alastor nodded his understanding. Angel followed him up, ignoring the mass of marionettes that had massed together to watch them, communicating among themselves without any actual outward language. 

Upstairs was a sort of study, a balcony off to the side where a slight woman stood. She was in an old but still very fashion forward dress and feathered hat. In her hands she was fidgetting with a wooden handle like a doubled cross that didn't look attached to anything. Hearing the two men enter, she placed the handle down gently, her glass finger tips clinking against the bannister.

"You've gotten on the wrong end of a witch, haven't you?" Rosie asked, turning her grin onto Alastor, already knowing which was really which. "I can already tell you there's no counterspell in my repertoire."

"Pity…" Alastor sighed. "Still not quite what we're here for!" He pulled at the hem of Angel's pajama shirt. "My usual clothes no longer fit and these are… Well, _these._ "

"Hey!" Angel protested.

"Oh I could tack some extra sleeves on a few things." Rosie assured. "Easy enough. That's all?"

"I could do with new boots." Angel spoke up, and at a look from Alastor elaborated. "You're shorter than me! I'm not used to it."

"Oh, you're not used to it." Alastor mocked, waving the four hands he currently had. "You're only down about half a foot. I have entirely new body parts."

"So do I. I'm just bein' polite about it." Angel huffed, but that train of thought reminded him. "Hey Rosie, you wouldn't happen to have anything like a corset but for the chest, would you?" He asked. 

Alastor was visibly confused by that before understanding dawned on him. He hadn't even thought of using clothing to fix part of his current shape. He had thought he would just have to put up with it.

"I have plenty of binders." Rosie assured. 

The two returned to the hotel, arms full of shopping bags and in a bit better spirits. Angel had a new set of heels to give him back the height he'd lost and Alastor was in a modest suit that could cover him, as well as the discomforting chest having been considerably flattened. It did make him feel better, oddly enough. 

Husk sighed at the sight of them returning, shaking his head and downing a few inches out of a bottle of whisky at the sight of them before pouring what he knew they favored. Husk did not want to deal with them any more sober than he absolutely had to. 

"You two fix your shit yet?" Husk asked, though he already knew from the stilletos on the deer that it was almost definitely a negative.

"Nope!" Alastor answered, far tok chipper. "But we have made adjustments to tide us over until it is."

"Great." Husk gruffed, not actually sounding very enthusiastic. 

Charlie was quick to join them, checking to see how they were handling themselves. 

"Oh this is such a weird turn. Are you two feeling okay? Did the bookstore have anything useful? You got there okay this time, right?"

"Somewhat, maybe, and yes." Alastor answered in order. "I still have to read through, you understand. Even if that turns out anything you or Angel will have to learn any spell I might find. The most I can do at the moment is pull guns out of anger." 

"I trashed my makeup yesterday." Angel provided, then groaned. "Fuck, I should've got more while we were out. Nobody but Rosie charged us for shit all day!"

"Angel that's theft." Charlie said sternly.

"No," Alastor corrected. "It's gifts! Or, if there must be an exchange, payment for not slaughtering them."

Charlie sighed, shaking her head. "Well at least nobody died today."

"That you know of." Alastor snickered, leaving the bar to take his drink with him. As much as his soul wanted to be close to his body, mentally he needed to be alone for a while. Research took a modicum of solitary focus anyway.

Angel shook his head before reiterating, "Nobody died at all. Except I guess the skeezes in the market but those were dead when we got there."

Alastor didn't bother to see where the conversation went after that, already making his way toward his room. He set the bags of clothes down on his bed, sorting through before putting them away. The books he left out, opening one and settling to skim through, hoping he found something useful. It yielded nothing but the reading did calm the oddly visceral need he'd been feeling all day, as well as distract him from the Pull for a few hours until it became more of a yank.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor theorizes but doesnt get far and the boys have a bit of a misunderstanding.

The spell that switched them could only be undone by the original caster or once the purpose of casting was fulfilled. Alastor nearly threw the book. He didn't know who the caster was or what they could possibly want with this whole situation. There weren't even any witches in the Hotel aside from himself and, by loose definition based on birthright, Charlie.

Figuring out the who would be ideal, but luckily Alastor knew he could potentially solve the issue if he could figure out the _why._ Why would someone use this sort of spell? It didn't seem to be beneficial to anyone. It wasn't actively harming anyone either, just causing an annoyance. To narrow things down, Alastor was having a rough time with things but Angel Dust seemed to be adapting alright so whatever this thing was Alastor concluded he had to be the main target.

Maybe someone was using this as a sort of power grab. Alastor was currently stripped of his strong magic that Angel had no clue how to use. It was where most of his status stemmed from, as well as just being how he usually went about functioning in his afterlife. Maybe someone wanted him out of the way. 

A knock sounded, followed by what was usually Alastor's voice. "Al? Hey I know we slept in my room last night. We sharin' yours this time?"

Alastor got up to open the door, then put the books away as Angel stepped in. "We can't switch back ourselves. Luckily though, this is only a jinx."

"A jinx is…?" Angel asked, not getting the significance.

"Jinxes are irritants but not inherently harmful." Alastor explained. "Hexes are harmful in the short term. Curses are long term, sometimes even permanent." 

"Great so a jinx ain't gonna hurt us." Angel agreed. "If we can't fix it who can?"

"I'm not sure yet but I think it's someone who wants me out of the way or at least out of magic." Alastor sighed. "If we don't figure out who did this to us then we'll just have to wait for them to get what they want out of it."

"That sucks." Angel huffed.

"Indeed." Alastor said.

"Any guesses who?"

Alastor shook his head. Anyone he knew of that had the bravery and stupidity to try crossing him on this level didn't have the power. Those that had the power were either on good terms, indifferent, or indebted to him. The only one that had all three was Vox, but if that were the case then Valentino would have known about the switch. 

Angel frowned at that, but accepted the unsaid answer. Nothing for it now, they could think more later. 

"You been in the binder all day?" Angel asked, understanding the one conversation had ended and starting a new one to avoid an awkward silence.

"Yes." Alastor answered easily. "Not the easiest to breathe in but… It has eased my mind somewhat. It was a good suggestion, thank you for asking Rosie for it." 

"She said not to wear it too long." Angel reminded.

Alastor wouldn't admit as much, but it had begun to ache. The way it mashed his fur also itched fiercely. Even so he didn't want to take it off. He looked over to Angel, somewhat disappointed to see his own eyes looking back. Still, he knew Angel was behind them, and that was who he was trying to see. 

"You really live like this?" He asked.

Angel blinked. Then snorted and shook his head, Alastor's ears flicking to the sides somewhat. "No, dumbass. I'm dead like this."

"You know exactly what I mean." Alastor scoffed.

"It gets easier." Angel answered more seriously. "It's new to you but I'm old hat at it. And I guess I'm one of the few that just cares less. Still get bad days where you just wanna rip your skin off cuz it feels wrong. But hey, spiders actually do that sometimes so I got that fantasy out of the way. Now take the binder off before you crack a rib?"

Alastor conceded, leaving his bedroom to pull off his overclothes in the bathroom so he could have privacy in getting the constrictive garment off. It was difficult enough getting it on, but somehow the reverse was worse. 

"I've seen my own body nude before, you don't gotta hide shit." Angel called through the door, then added. "Brush my fuckin' teeth while you're in there."

Alastor did so before swapping to a more comfortable shirt and pants for bed. He stepped out, and Angel looked him over expectantly, clearly finding something lacking.

"When's the last time you had a bath?" Angel asked.

"Before the switch." Alastor answered.

"Okay that ain't gonna fly." Angel said sternly. "I get it's real weird and it's late so we can forget it for now but you're bathing tomorrow. I don't need to be gettin' a rash, mites, or moldy just cuz you're a prude."

Alastor glared at Angel, cocking his head. "You've bathed my body?"

"Blind in the dark." Angel elaborated. "Most I've learned is that you got a tail."

"Oh." Alastor calmed. 

"Got somethin' else to hide?" Angel teased.

"No," Alastor said, a bit quickly. "I just would have expected you to seize the chance while you have it. You usually never miss a chance to flirt at me."

"I flirt cuz that's just how I am." Angel explained, annoyance audibly seeping into his tone. "That's just me tryin' to be friendly."

"Well considering what you do for work--"

"Yeah! Work!" Angel agreed, and the shadows in the room wavered as they reacted to his emotional spike. "And yeah, I think my job is fun most of the time. That don't mean I'm some kind of asshole that gets off to molestin' people."

"Angel I didn't mean--" Alastor tried to backtrack, reaching out with two hands.

"Yeah you did. And here I thought you might be startin' to respect me a little. Fuck you, Al." Angel cut him off haughtily, the shadows solidifying and shoving everything in the room away from him, including Alastor.

Books wound up on the floor, the nightstand was overturned, and Alastor's back hit the wall with an audible thud. Angel realized quickly it was his own doing, although unintentional, and stood.

"Shit, I didn't mean to do that." Said Angel, ears flattening and covering his mouth.

"I'd say it's deserved." Alastor allowed, straightening up. "Angel… There is a lot we don't understand about each other. I am especially… _ignorant_ of a few things regarding your lifestyle. I'm afraid if this lasts we are going to have to learn." He said, choosing his wording carefully. "You are proving to be more adaptable than I am. Please forgive me and allow me to catch up?" 

Angel let out a puff of air between his teeth. He didn't want to just let the offense slide, but knew he should have expected Alastor to make the assumption that he had. A lot of people made the assumption that Angel must be out to fuck whoever whenever, but the fact that Alastor had considered the same hurt more than it would have done coming from some stranger. Still, people could learn of they really wanted to and Alastor seemed sincere with the apology.

"Well… If you seriously wanna learn shit about me." Angel began, taking the olive branch for what it was and extending a hand as if introducing himself. "My actual name is Anthony Altobello."

Alastor sighed, relieved, and took the offered hand to shake it. He was glad for the quick solution. He didn't know how well it would go for him to be at odds with someone he couldn't be away from for more than a few hours without being increasingly uncomfortable.

"Alastor Landry!" 

"No kidding, you use your real name down here?" Angel asked.

"Of course!" Alastor cheered. "No one expects it."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor has to be coerced into hygiene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Al is stinkie. I wrote half of this while drinking I will not be judged.

Alastor didn't dream often. Then again, he also didn't sleep often, so perhaps it should have been expected. 

Peroxide was the first thing he noticed. The smell was strong. The next thing he noticed was that he was sitting on the roof somewhere in a city, bright noon sun shining down. His scalp burned. He checked his watch. Just a few more minutes, then he would go back downstairs. 

"That's gonna look like shit." A man muttered, passing him on the stairs.

"Really? I was goin' for that Jean Harlow look." He answered. "If it turns out shit I'll just cut it off."

"Dad's not gonna like it." The man sighed.

"Dad don't like anything, Archie." 

"Yeah… He's got a job for you. Fix your fuckin' hair before you go see him though. Put a hat on, maybe he won't notice." 

" _Me?_ "

"I didn't stutter." Archie grunted, leaving the conversation there. "You wanna be a man so bad, you gotta put in the work."

A memory, Alastor realized, and not one of his own. Angel's. _Anthony's._

As soon as he realized as much, the memory shifted. There was blood on his hands, accompanied by nausea. It had been a messy kill, hesitation and a lack of conviction causing sloppy handiwork. Alastor had never been bothered by corpses or the creation of them, but Anthony was clearly troubled. He could hear the thought running through the other's head just as clearly as his own and it was a bit disorienting.

 _I don't want this._ Was the main thought, underlaid with a sense of upset at getting blood in his hair. Nobody would notice a little red in the old black but surely it would be stark against the newly bleached locks.

Part of Alastor wanted to comfort Angel, using his waking words from earlier; It gets easier. But he had no control here. The moment was passed, and even if Alastor could speak to this version of Anthony he didn't think it would really help. There was still a stranger dead at Anthony's feet, guilt staining the young man's soul just as blood stained his shoes. The first in a tally of sins to mark him for damnation.

Funny. Alastor had assumed Angel was only in Hell for more mundane things that had added up enough to bar him from Heaven, and that his proclivity for guns had come from exposure to Hell itself. He hadn't expected to have common ground in murder, even for different reasons. 

By the time Alastor woke up Angel was gone from his bed, standing at the window which he had opened. 

"You saw that, huh?" Angel asked, an ear swivelling toward Alastor as he had noticed the other wake. "Felt you. I think I felt you anyway."

"I saw." Alastor confirmed. "I wasn't looking on purpose."

"I know." Angel said quietly. "You're right, though. It did get easier… Still didn't like it. Left the Family and turned to hookin'. It suited me better than the mafia. 'Course the Family taught me shit that's useful down here so that time had its place." 

"Hard decision to leave, I'm sure." Alastor said quietly.

"Yeah. Ended up killin' me after a few years. Went home with a john. Turned out that was bait. Ended up in asylum, got out just to drug myself to death." Angel explained, pointedly not going into detail. "If you get random headaches behind my left eye that's why."

"I was shot." Alastor admitted. "Chased down by bloodhounds and treed like a raccoon."

"So we both got a hole in the head, huh?" Angel turned toward him then, thoughtful. "If we're gonna be sharin' memories, or just dreams in general you might end up gettin' an eyeful."

"I appreciate the warning." Alastor nodded, and took in the new similarity. "If you end up seeing mine there is quite a lot of blood." He returned, standing and moving to dress himself. 

As soon as Alastor picked up a set of trousers, Angel reached over to take them away. "Bath." He reminded, "At the very least brush yourself for fuck sake."

"I do not _have_ a brush." Alastor protested.

"You have hair!" Angel said.

"I use my fingers! Brushing snags my ears." Alastor dismissed.

"Okay, grab your clothes and come on." Angel groaned and lead Alastor to his room, deciding the other was getting some actual hygiene practice today if it killed both of them again. "I have soft brushes and soapsand that smells like cotton candy."

"Why would anyone want to smell like candy?" Alastor asked, letting himself be pulled along.

"You eat people. Figured you'd be into that shit." 

"I don't like sweets." Alastor said dryly.

"Who hurt you?" Angel teased. "Alright I got unscented stuff too." 

The next hour saw Alastor sitting on a tarp on the floor of Angel's bathroom, fur damp from a bath. Angel had let him actually bathe alone but was now rubbing some sort of grit into the fur just to brush it out again. Alastor didn't see the point in it. Angel had explained it was to dry off properly, but Alastor thought that the fur would dry on its own eventually. Apparently not, as Angel's undercoat was too dense. 

Even worse, the odd hot feeling had returned and was only getting worse. Angel wasn't even directly touching him but the pull of the brush was definitely causing a metaphorical crossed wire somewhere. 

"Are you, by any chance, one of those demons that has a heat cycle?" Alastor asked, hoping that would at least explain it.

"Not really?" Angel shrugged. "I get periods and there's a weird once-a-year thing where I'll lay eggs instead of bleedin' but that's usually in october. Ain't a heat like some demons get. Why?" 

Alastor didn't answer. He didn't have to. Angel understood. 

"Sheesh, you act like you never been horny."

"Not often." Alastor admitted.

"Well that explains some shit." Angel shrugged. "If you feel like playin' with the little pink pill I really don't give a shit." 

"Little pink p--" Alastor repeated before he caught on to what Angel was saying. " _Angel!_ "


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys try to get comfortable and everyone it trying to help things feel normal again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short again but I'm tired.

Angel was getting really sick of waking up early, but At least Husk was usually downstairs when Angel managed to pry himself from his own numerous limbs. All Angel had to do was set the coffee maker going, fix himself a cup, and when he placed the mug down on the bar the click of it was enough for Husk to wake up and be just functional enough to pour a small bit of kahlua in with it and tell him to fuck off before putting his head back down. 

"Thanks Husky." Angel said sultry as he usually did, scritching the cat's ear.

"Don't fuckin' talk to me in that tone with Al's voice." Husk grunted, not bothering to move.

"Yeah that's probably weird." Angel agreed, taking a seat. "Sorry… I forget I can't just be me when I'm kinda not…"

Husk didn't answer, either back asleep or just ignoring Angel. Angel didn't mind, as conversation was hard to keep anyway while he was eating. He'd already gone through most of the stock, but at least most of it was cooked enough to not bother him as much while still being bloody enough to sort of sate the hunger Alastor's body was bound to. 

Niffty was up next, flitting by and skidding to a halt when she noticed Angel. She turned to hop up into the seat next to him, and he raised an arm out of habit to accept the hug he knew was coming. She of course delivered, squeezing a bony ribcage with just as much force as she usually reserved for his fluff. It was nice that she wasn't letting the change affect the way she gave out affection.

"Ooh! Alastor looks so nice in heels, Angel!" Niffty said as she caught sight of the cherry red kneehigh boots Angel had on. 

"He'd probably look good in whatever." Angel dismissed, though he was happy to hear the praise in his choice of what he used to regain his height.

"Bullshit." Husk gruffed, straightening up as he accepted he wasn't catching up on any sleep with the conversation happening right next to him. "Bastard looks like walking taxidermy."

"Rude." Alastor called, having heard the comment as he came downstairs. 

He was back in the binder, Angel noticed, and he glanced at the clock to count up to when he knew Alastor would need to take it off. Really, Alastor should be the one to keep track of that but Angel knew Alastor had a habit of conveniently forgetting to do things he didn't want to do. 

The rest of the day was spent trying to resume a sense of normalcy despite the fact that Angel was making a conscious effort not to flirt even though he typically did so on instinct and Alastor was relying on more hands and less magic. Still, it was a valiant effort, helped along by Charlie's encouragements and the rest of the hotel staff's understanding. Still very strange, but manageable.

As an upside, there were less arguments between deer and spider about their different opinions of propriety. Alastor had come to understand that Angel had a right to be as modest or showy as he so chose. On the other hand, Angel already knew that Alastor had strong boundaries but was starting to understand the reasoning behind them.

For one, while Alastor had been struggling to control Angel's sex drive which would flare at random for no discernable reason at all, Angel had learned Alastor barely had one at all. Not a physical one at least and anything mental Angel attributed to his own thoughts wandering. Another thing was Alastor had something against being touched which Angel also knew on some level but being bombarded with deerish instincts that had him ready to freeze or run at a moment's notice really put things into perspective. Maybe Alastor really was just touch averse as all Hell but Angel had a suspicion that he also just didn't like to be surprised. Most annoyingly, he felt the urge to eat constantly and felt practically shackled to the kitchen. Alastor kept telling him hunting would help but Angel didn't want to give in so easily.

"Any closer to a solution?" Vaggie asked, near to daily. Usually she avoided Alastor, but without his magic she didn't find him more intimidating than she did Angel.

"Regrettably no…" Alastor admitted, watching Angel eat. "If anything we're even more at a loss."

"Yeah if it was just the getting Al out of his magic it'd narrow it down but we're sharin' memories and shit." Angel elaborated between swallows as he was barely bothering to chew. "Don't know how that's benefittin' anyone." He then turned to leave the lobby. "Gotta go to the fuckin' market _again._ "

"You could hunt." Alastor suggested.

"You could shut up." Angel replied dryly.

"No one has taken any shots at me or my territory either." Alastor sighed, following.

Charlie squinted at both of their retreating backs before turning to Vaggie. "You remember that movie we watched with my mom?" She started to ask, but Vaggie waved at her, gesturing for her to not say what she was thinking.

"They have to figure it out themselves, hon."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vox and Valentino notice something is up, not that Val particularly cares, and Alastor finds out what Angel's Curse is.

"So that's why Angel was acting off…" Valentino mused, looking over the photo Vox had shoved toward him. "Bitch went and got a new Daddy…"

"And look who that is!" Vox urged, shaking the picture.

Valentino grabbed the other's wrist to force his hand to steady and adjusted his glasses. He clicked his tongue as he nearly didn't recognize the demon in question. "The fuck is buckboy wearing?" He couldn't help but ask. The deer in the photo was still dressed modestly as usual, but a bit more modernly and most notable where the bright red, high heeled boots. "Didn't take him for a Lola…"

"That isn't the point!" Vox groaned. 

Valentino rolled his eyes, though with segmented eyes instead of pupilled ones it was difficult to tell. He looked at the picture again. It was a candid shot at a distance of Angel Dust and the Radio Demon, shopping bags in hand. Angel, he noticed, was also dressed modestly. Almost even more so than Alastor was. Probably terms of an arrangement. Valentino didn't put it past Angel to get a sugar daddy to replace his pimp, but the who was an unexpected choice. 

Here, he'd thought Alastor didn't go for those sorts of things as he had sent many a whore the Radio Demon's way to try to trade only for every single one he sent to come back to him shellshocked but completely untouched. Apparently Alastor must have just had incredibly specific tastes or Angel was just that appealing. Probably a bit of both, Valentino decided.

"I don't get what you're showing me." Valentino admitted to Vox's expectant screen.

"He's fucking with me!" Vox declared, pointed a claw at the picture. "No broadcasts for days! He's gone recluse, and when he does go out he looks like a borderline drag thrift store eyesore! He's gotta be trying to get into my head."

"And you're letting him." Valentino pointed out.

"He's got something big planned I just know it." Vox continued. 

"Do I need to poke tin foil in your audio port?" Valentino threatened lightly. "Listen."

Vox stilled and quieted. 

"Remember when podcasts started up and you thought that'd be the end of TV being important?"

Vox nodded.

"Then podcasts wound up being primarily through internet anyway and we got with Velvet." Valentino reminded. "Let whatever wants to happen happen, and then make yourself a staple of it _after_ you know what to expect. He might get a bit of time in the spotlight but everyone always comes crawling back to us once the novelty fades."

Angel's Curse was not only mental, Alastor realized when he was suddenly hit with a wave of nausea and shaking so severe that he had to quickly sit down on the floor and hold his head between his knees. It wasn't withdrawal symptoms, he knew, as it had cropped up so suddenly and so strongly. Alastor knew what Angel's withdrawals felt like and they always came with cravings. Instead, this feeling was laced with something Alastor struggled to place as he hadn't felt guilt since before he had died and time had made it foreign to him.

He was alone when it happened, usually something he would have seen as a mercy given the fact he wasn't fond of showing weakness. This time he felt the solitude like a cold spike in his chest. To be lonely was a fate worse than second death, Alastor felt in this state.

He didn't know what to do. He needed someone to tell him. Orders he could follow. He couldn't even move as every life he'd taken tore him down further from the inside out but if someone would just tell him what to do… 

"Breathe." Angel said sternly as he found Alastor stone-still on the floor. 

Alastor breathed.

"Go throw up, you'll feel better." Angel continued, and helped Alastor stagger to the bathroom as he was compelled to do as told. 

"Should've figured it'd be worse for you…" Angel sighed, apologetic. "You got a higher kill count, and for fun too. I really thought it was in my head. I'm sorry… This is supposed to be mine. You don't deserve this."

"Yes I do…" Alastor whimpered, and it just about broke Angel's heart to hear Alastor actually _cry._

"It'll pass." Angel assured. He patted Alastor's back between the two sets of shoulders and they shared the relative quiet. "I'm here. It ain't gonna last long with a friend around."

Because through all of this, they couldn't _not_ be friends.

Angel knew how this worked and wasn't about to tell Alastor to do anything unnecessary, as in this state he would be compelled to follow anything resembling an order. He also wouldn't be able to do anything without being told to, but sitting on cold tile on the bathroom floor with a guardian standing by wasn't the worst place to lose autonomy. Eventually it did pass, and Alastor quickly stood. He moved to the sink to rinse his mouth, the flavor of bile doing nothing to ease his mood.

"Well that was unpleasant!" Alastor said, realizing he had dropped his smile at some point and plastering it back on. "Guilt and crippling dependency? What an awful combination."

"Yeah apparently that's what killin' people on orders gets you. It fuckin' sucks." Angel agreed. "Usually only happens if I'm alone too long and get stuck in my feelings." 

"The drugs keep you out of your feelings." Alastor mused aloud, not a question.

Angel shrugged but didn't deny it. Instead he made an offer. 

"Don't go snitchin' to Charlie but in my room if you climb up the wall and pull the vent grate out I got a bit stashed. Took the screws out of it so it pops out easy." Angel explained. "Nothin' fancy. Just some low-grade blow for bad days but it's better than nothin'." 

"Purely medical, hm?" Alastor teased. "You can climb walls?"

"I'm a spider." Angel pointed out, then corrected himself. "Well, _you're_ a spider…"

"You'll be a spider again eventually." Alastor assured, then added in a more honest tone that let on just how drained he felt. "I'm tired."

Going to bed at four in the afternoon was not common for either of them. Neither cared. The switch was taking a toll on both of them. Emotions were raw after Alastor's episode. The Pull had gone ignored long enough to hurt before Angel had found him. They needed the rest and they needed to be close.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel is bored. Alastor has a suggestion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a fucking romcom but my wretched angst-brain.

Angel had developed a routine around Alastor's body it went as follows: Starting somewhere between four or five in the morning he would wake up, untangle himself from Alastor's many borrowed limbs, dress quickly, get about halfway to the stairwell before he turned on his heel to go retrieve the monocle he always managed to forget until he noticed everything on his right was blurred to fuck, resume his trek to the stairwell, go downstairs to the kitchen, start the coffee maker, and stuff his face with no regard for tablemanners until someone else woke up and he had to pretend to be a functional dead person. 

Angel didn't have work anymore. He couldn't indulge any personal playtime, not that Alastor's body seemed to have any need of it. He was starting to get sick of eating which was borderline blasphemy with how Angel's mother had raised him. He and Alastor had agreed not to leave the Hotel unless they were together, since any time Alastor tried he didn't like the sort of attention he was getting and Angel didn't want things to be unfair. But Angel had too much manic energy to sit and do anything creative or imaginative like crochet or reading which were his usual time-killers if he was stuck indoors.

Angel Dust was _bored._ No wonder Alastor seemingly did things purely for the sake of entertainment. Boredom was a new sort of Hell. 

"You wouldn't be as bored if you hunted." Alastor pointed out after Angel complained of it. "It helps the hunger by a small margin too. The fresher the better and nothing's fresher than eating a kill while your claws are still in it!"

"Funny you, a fuckin' deer, have more predator instinct than me." Angel huffed. "And normally I'm a spider!"

"Most spiders sit and wait for their meals to come to them." Alastor reasoned. 

"Ain't deer supposed to eat grass?" Angel countered.

"I am not an ordinary deer." Alastor said cheerfully. "However I have seen normal deer whittle away at old bones before. Get your nutrition where you can, hm?" 

Angel had no retort for that. "I can't use my guns and your magic is fuckin' impossible to figure out." He pointed out instead.

"You have perfectly capable claws and teeth."

"Yeah, your mouth is a fuckin' beartrap…" Angel chuckled, then shook his head. "No, look. I can't just go kill shit with my bare hands. That's too… I ain't like you okay. I still got _some_ feelings."

Alastor's brow furrowed and his cocked his head. "You think I don't have feelings?"

"I mean I know you gotta have emotions but they ain't right most of the time." Angel stated matter-of-factly. "I know I killed people plenty and I've hurt a few but I feel bad about it most of the time. You… you _laugh_. It's fucked up and kinda makes me wonder if you were ever even actually human."

"Ain't right." Alastor repeated. "There is no right. Or wrong. There are actions and reasons. We got sent to Hell for our actions with no regard to what our reasons were. So what should reasoning matter anymore?" Alastor laughed, but it sounded even more forced that usual. "If I hurt someone because they hurt me first it's evidently no better than killing someone because they happen to look like quality meat! At least hunting is quick and efficient. It isn't as if I suggested you torture and eviscerate, I'm only letting you know the most effective way to avoid the urge to start eating yourself!" Alastor reached forward, yanking Angel's wrist.

Angel hadn't even noticed he'd put his fingers in his mouth. He had however noticed that what he said had clearly offended Alastor in some way.

"Every action has a reason. I'm an animal, Angel, we both are. Everyone is. The only other option is stone." Alastor sighed, calming himself quickly. "I am _not_ a monster."

"Al--" Angel began, a beat too late as Alastor had turned and stormed away. 

Angel didn't even see Alastor for the rest of the day, and neither had anyone else in the hotel when he asked around. Nobody except for maybe Husk who hadn't answered the question at all and suggested that Angel just leave it alone.

The Pull was worse than usual. Angel wondered if it was from distance. Maybe Alastor wasn't even in the hotel anymore. Even if Alastor felt uncomfortable going out by himself, it still probably wouldn't stop him from leaving if he really wanted to. It was odd, Angel thought. Surely other people had questioned Alastor's humanity before. Why was Alastor so obviously bothered by _Angel's_ opinion of all demons?

Angel regretted even opening his mouth and went about the rest of the day until it was late enough to justify going to bed alone, showering blindly before going to bed. He laid alone for a few hours, unable to find sleep with the hollow ache in his chest even though all he wanted was to turn his mind off for a while.

Eventually Alastor let himself into the room; Angel hadn't locked the door. He flopped onto the bed, settling with his back to Angel instead of spooning which had become the norm to them. He smelled like blood. Angel didn't mention it.

"You're awake." Alastor stated, not a question.

"Yeah…" Angel confirmed. "Hey, I'm s--"

"No." Alastor cut him off. "You don't like what you don't like. You've been a gentleman about my sensitivities, I should be more considerate of yours." 

Angel noticed Alastor didn't bring up anything about what Angel had said about what he thought of the serial killer as a person. Angel followed the example, letting the conflict be pushed away for now in favor of peace. They fell into silence. 

They slept.

They dreamed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor remembers what got him to consider murder as a solution to problems in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy warning for this chapter containing period typical racism and violence in a flashback. 
> 
> *Epiphany from Sweeney Todd plays softly in the background*

"Sha, quit feedin' dat damn gator." A woman's voice called from the porch of a patchwork house near the river. "It's gon' try eatin' you once it gets grown." 

Alastor grumbled out a half-hearted "Yes mama," before tossing the rest of what he didn't want into the waiting jaws of a mottled grey-green reptile that had wandered a fair distance out of the river. 

The alligator was young, only about three feet long nose to tail. Still it was better than the cats that hissed and scratched at him or the dogs that growled and snapped. People weren't much better. His mother had tried to shelter him from most of it, but as the boy became a young man he noticed more and more how much the world wasn't made for him. 

Three things especially worked against his favor with people; He was mix of black and white, he was friends with a white girl, and had absolutely none of the usual feelings most men associated toward women. Even worse, the girl's father, an easily angered man named Randy, couldn't seem to comprehend the fact men and women could be just friends and had many friends with similar ideals. 

He had just been talking with Marie about something… He couldn't really remember the specifics now, so it probably hadn't been very important. Just one of those nonsense conversations that flowed easily between friends. Whatever it had been it had been quickly interrupted. 

Randy had led a small group of his friends, four men in total, to pull Alastor to his feet, pulling him away from Marie and looping a rope around his neck. Marie was quick to try getting her father to stop, to no avail, so she got wise and ran. 

Alastor wasn't worried. This wasn't how he died. He would be shot, not strung up a tree. The local queen had told him so personally, favoring him as she could sense he was special in much the same way most animals could sense that there was something wrong with him.

Slurs and accusations were spat at Alastor. He ignored the comments on his skin, but the insinuations that he had touched Marie in any less than innocent sense did strike a nerve.

"You've put y' hands on her far more den I ever done." Alastor spat right back at Randy, just before the rope tightened and he was lifted off of the ground. Dangling from the tree he usually ate lunch under. How nice…

Alastor had nearly fainted from asphyxiation before he heard the gunshot. For a moment he thought maybe this was when he died, and that he just didn't feel the bullet because it had already gone right through his head. Not so soon it seemed, as he was cut down. He hit the ground roughly, pulling the rope loose and coughing wetly.

"Ain't gonna be around every fucking time you get into trouble, Al." Jim Husker scolded. 

"Which one y' shoot?" Alastor asked, noting the other men had gone.

"Warning shot." Husker answered, scratching at the side of his beard. "What did you to to piss off Randy and the boys this time?"

"I exist." Alastor answered hoarsely. 

"You know a smart man would leave Marie the hell alone." Husker advised.

" _She_ finds _me._ " Alastor sniffed, untying the badly arranged noose and coiling the rope to keep. "I enjoy her comp'ny but I don't go lookin' fo' her."

Husker gruffed wordlessly and left, going about the rest of his day before the girl had come to get him. Alastor left him to it, anger settling in his stomach in the same toxic pool of acceptance of the world he lived in. Finally, the pool had begun to overflow. This was the turning point from complacency to contempt. 

Not far from the tree, lying at the edge of the river, an alligator let out a low grumbling hiss. She was ten feet long now, having been well fed. Alastor's mother had warned against feeding her before she got big enough to help herself to people. Alastor stood, considered the rope in his hands, and looked back toward the alligator.

"Gators gotta eat, huh Missy?" He said softly. 

It was a few nights later that Randy went out to go fishing and just never made it home. Instead he'd been strangled with the same rope, taken out on his own boat, and tossed right into the waiting jaws of the single creature Alastor knew of that didn't think something was wrong with him. 

The vast majority of people blamed the alligators, but Husker and Marie looked at Alastor a bit differently. He didn't mind that. 

He didn't mind at all.

He _didn't._

As usual, Angel woke up first. He rolled over to look at Alastor, still sleeping. He wasn't smiling, which looked fine on Angel's face but didn't seem right knowing Alastor was behind it and probably still dreaming. 

Angel gingerly took one of Alastor's hands and hoped to provide some comfort without waking him. Alastor woke up anyway, staring forward into Angel's eyes, still his own red for now. His eyes shifted to their joined hands. Angel started to let go. Alastor's grip tightened. 

"I get it." Angel said softly.

"Do you?" Alastor replied, sounding tired even though he had just been sleeping. 

Angel nodded. "If you still think I should go hunting…"

"I stocked the fridge full last night." Alastor assured, whichbexplained the bloody smell still clinging to him.

"You went out?" Angel asked. "Thought you hated the attention."

"Yes." Alastor agreed. "But as a positive your looks make for very good bait!"

"Ha!" Angel laughed despite himself. "Yeah they tend to work for me!"

Alastor chuckled, catching the innuendo and appreciating the fact it was one of Angel's more subtle ones. Almost classy even.

"Okay but what the fuck was that accent?" Angel continued, more comfortable now they seemed to have reached good terms again.

"I had to cover it to get into the Radio business." Alastor dismissed, "But I was born and raised in de bayou of N'Orleans. Keep it to y'self do." 

"Right." Angel agreed. "I didn't hear shit."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic practice but not good practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Addict mv got me in my feelings so I'm incorporating it because ow my heart.

Alastor was practicing Angel's limited form of magic; Manifest a gun, shoot, and dispell it. So far pistols were easiest, followed by shotguns, and he'd even managed to make a tommy gun once but so far hadn't managed to do it a second time. It had taken getting angry for him to figure it out that first time but now that he had a decent handle on what the magic felt like it was relatively easy to do it without requiring the honest emotion. Fake anger was enough. 

It was about this time that he noticed a shadow enter the room. It was shaped like the spider Angel usually was, glowing pink eyes. Alastor recognised the show of his own magic, and waved at the shadow that was for now outside of his control. It waved back, eyes shifting from a neutral expression to a cheerful one.

"Are you actually listening to Angel or acting on your own?" Alastor asked.

The shadow cocked its head, clearly confused, and Alastor knew that this must be a new shadow entirely instead of just his own reshaped. Something formed from Angel's own soul. Alastor remembered the first time he had ever manifested an autonomous shadow with such clarity. He had grown tired of everyone running at the sight of him and had felt...lonely. Having experienced Angel's curse first-hand and knowing just how bad Angel's loneliness could be even without the curse making it worse, Alastor didn't want to just ignore that. 

It was odd though, that the shadow had come to find him. Surely the shadow itself was enough. If not it should have gone looking for someone Angel felt close to. Cherri, most likely. Or perhaps one of his siblings. Maybe even Niffty, since Alastor had noticed that Angel had practically adopted the little woman despite both of them being adults and only being about ten years her senior. Then again, age seemed more of a petty detail in Hell as it was more indicative of when you lived rather than for how long.

"I suppose my presence is wanted?" Alastor asked the shadow as he let go of the gun he'd been working on which disappeared as soon as he did, an experiment in seeing how far he could customize the instrument, and stood. The question was a courtesy. He knew the shadow couldn't verbally answer him. "Very well."

He followed the shadow up to the roof where Angel was, seemingly having his own magical practice if not for the fact it looked a fair bit more like a shadowy sort of tantrum. The sign was even dented, Alastor idly noticed. 

"Actually focusing may help." Alastor suggested.

"Fuck!" Angel startled. "Don't sneak up on me."

"What are you trying to do?" Alastor asked, stepping closer. 

"I don't really know." Angel admitted. "Just tryin' anything. Mostly endin' up just breakin' shit though…"

"Well you managed to make a doppelganger!" Alastor said cheerfully, gesturing with both of his left hands toward the shadow.

Angel looked at it, surprised as he didn't realize he'd managed to make it. He then smiled. "At least that looks like me… Even though I don't."

"Yes, well. Shadows like this are a reflection of soul, not body." Alastor stated. 

"Right." Angel nodded, though he seemed distracted. Shadowy tendrils almost solidified, but wavered and became like dark fog instead. Angel cursed quietly.

"Why try so hard? When we switch back it won't matter." Alastor said, not letting on he had just been doing the same but with marginally higher success.

"What if we don't?" Angel asked, pointedly not facing Alastor. "What if this is just us now? I'll have to eat people forever and you have to be… _me_." With the way he said it, it seemed that for Angel being himself was punishment enough. It didn't sit right with Alastor.

"Oh being you isn't so bad!" Alastor countered cheerfully. "Besides. I'm not you. I just look like you for now and it certainly isn't the worst body to be in. I can get so much done with all of these hands, now that I'm used to them! You can make weapons out of nothing! And while I'm still not entirely comfortable with certain...shapes… No one can deny that you are quite beautiful."

"Yeah, I _know_ I'm a pretty bitch." Angel said bitterly, alerting Alastor to the fact he had said something wrong. "Mind if you smoke?" He then asked, already pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocked and tapping it against his palm before opening it.

"Do as you like." Alastor answered, conceding. "If we are just stuck like this until we're put down for good then it hardly matters about permissions…" 

"Considerin' we gotta sleep together I just figure it's best if we don't piss each other off too much." Angel shrugged, lighting up and then offering the pack to the other.

"Not cannabis this time?"

"Your nose is too strong for weed." Angel answered. 

"You just aren't used to ignoring stronger scents." Alastor said lightly. Angel didn't have a response for that, so Alastor followed his example and took from the offered pack knowing full well Angel's body had had worse in its system before. Angel sat down on the edge of the roof. Alastor sat with him.

"You're really strong." Angel said once most of his cigarette was gone and Alastor had gotten halfway through his own. "I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to to with that…" 

"To be honest I didn't know what to do with it either." Alastor admitted. "But considering this is Hell of all places I thought it best to make an entrance." 

"Yeah and then you go and murder at least one poor son of a bitch on your show every fuckin' day." Angel chuckled. 

"Oh it's usually the same four demons. I rotate." Alastor explained. "I only do more than that for holiday massacres! I'm flattered that you listen." 

"The four guys that--" Angel started, realizing the men he'd seen try to hang Alastor in a dream were definitely in Hell as well. "Oh… Why not just get rid of them for good?"

"Holy weapons are worth more than I would ever use them for. Besides, death is a relief." Alastor explained. "I'd rather keep them scared for as long as all five of us exist. Fear is true Hell."

"Yeah…" Angel agreed. "I guess it is."

_Fear. Anger. Pain. Disgust._ All were felt by Alastor during dreaming that night. He had woken up before the nightmare had gotten too graphic but he still fled to the bathroom to rid his stomach of the sick feeling it had caused. Another memory. Angel's. Of course it was. It was also the first time either had shared a memory of something post-mortem. Usually all of the dreams were from when they had still been living but this time it was something much more recent.

"You weren't supposed to see that…" Angel stated, having woken up as Alastor moved. His voice was shaky.

Alastor thought for a while before speaking up. "You gave all of us tickets to your show that night…" He said, still sitting on the bathroom floor. Nuggets shoved themself into his lap.

"Nobody showed…" Angel sighed. "And why the fuck would you?"

"You didn't care if we watched… You just wanted the security." Alastor realized.

"Just shut up!" Angel said, harsh for a moment before the dam broke and a sob escaped him. How long had he held onto this? It couldn't have been the first time, after all. He had been in Hell and working for Valentino too long for that. "It doesn't fuckin' matter. It ain't like he hits me." Angel continued, forcing his voice level.

_I'm going to kill him._ Alastor decided. Even if he saw permanent death as a mercy, it would be worth it for Angel to feel safe.

"It _does_ matter." Alastor insisted. " _You_ matter, Angel."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor is plotting and for once its nothing bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *casually tosses Arackniss in here for plot purposes*

Alastor had never cared much for holy weaponry. Just like guns, he thought it too quick. Too final. Not at all fun. Still, the personal mission he had in mind wasn't for fun. It was something more serious by far. The only hitch was figuring out how to get his hands on angel metal. Preferably bullets. Looking like Angel, at least, have him a foot in a door to one of the few branches of the Black Market that sold such things. Angel was from a mafia background, after all. 

From the memories Angel had shown him, intentionally or not, Alastor knew the siblings were his best bet. The sister seemed closest, but the brother would be more useful. Archimedes, or more recently, Arackniss. 

"May I borrow your hellphone?" Alastor asked. 

"Uuhhh…" Angel said, squinting. "Do you even know how to use it?" 

"Just looking something up." Alastor assured. "How difficult can that be?"

Angel shrugged and handed the phone over. Alastor took a second to figure out how to putt up contacts, finding Arackniss's and committing the attached number to memory. He closed out of the contacts and handed it back.

"That was quick." Angel remarked. "What did you search?"

"Oh nothing very important." Alastor deflected. "Just a glance at a map. I'm going out soon."

"Oh? I'll go get my boots." Angel said, used to them going places as a pair by now.

"No, no. Just me." Alastor stated, then added as Angel's face fell: "Can't very well surprise you if you're with me!"

"Surprise?" Angel asked, brightening. "The fuck for?" 

"Stress has been rather high, lately." Alastor pointed out. "I think a reward is in order."

"What are you--"

"Ah-ah-ah." Alastor scolded playfully. "A surprise is a surprise! You will know when I bring it to you."

Angel laughed and took the hint. "Well I gotta walk a pig anyway." He shrugged, going upstairs. 

Alastor knew it would take at least five minutes before coming back down if Nuggets was agreeable but likely it would take longer. Acting quickly, he reached over the front desk for the phone, dialling the number he had just looked at. It picked up on the third ring, a tired voice answering, lower than Angel's but with the same accent.

_"The fuck is this?"_

"Someone with a deal to make!"

_"Shit, Tony? You know I'm nocturnal."_

"Not quite." Alastor answered. 

_"Right… The magic shit…"_

"I need to speak with you in person. It's a sensitive matter and I need weaponry." Alastor said plainly before relaying the address of an old speakeasy he had frequented before the switch. 

He hung up just as Angel got down, Nuggets pulling at the leash. The pig had gotten used to the change but still clearly didn't understand or like it. It saddened Angel a bit but at least Nuggets wasn't running away and hiding from him anymore.

Arackniss was not used to being awake during what Hell tried to pass off as daytime. He was a soldato, primarily a hitman, so most of his work was done at night. He'd also never bothered with speakeasies, since prohibition wasn't actually a thing in Hell. Those that kept speakeasies up and running were those Sinners that refused to catch up with current times and while the joints were charming in their own right it seemed a little silly to keep up a pretense of sneaking something while also having a glaring sign that proved you weren't actively trying to sneak anything. 

Then again, maybe whatever the Radio Demon wanted him for would require a bit of discretion. In that case a speakeasy made some sense. Stepping into the not at all well hidden establishment, he saw what looked like his brother sitting at the bar, wearing far more than he usually did and having taken the care to flatten his chest. If not for the fact Arackniss knew what was going on already, he might have asked 'Angel' what was wrong. But it wasn't Angel. It was the Radio Demon and Arackniss didn't feel like being shredded. With this in mind he didn't waste the man's time, sitting beside him and speaking plainly. 

"What do you need?" The smaller spider asked bluntly. 

"A bullet." Alastor answered, just as shortly.

"You got bullets." Arackniss pointed out. "You can make Angel's guns, can'tcha?"

"I can." Alastor nodded. "But those are not enough. I need a bullet that will keep a demon dead."

"Okay," Arackniss said, crossing his arms. "Who's the hit? I got a free day--"

"No." Alastor cut him off. Sure he could allow Arackniss to handle the situation himself but that was putting Arackniss in a line of fire he wouldn't normally be in. He knew Angel wouldn't appreciate that. There was also the added matter that this felt personal somehow. "No, that won't do. Angel should get to pull the trigger on this." Alastor said, then opened his many palms. "Or at the very least his hands should."

Arackniss blinked, smaller eyes not quite syncing with the main two. He considered asking what made this particular hit so personal. He got the feeling that if he asked he wouldn't be given a straight answer. He sighed, thoughtful. Even without knowing details, he had caught on to the fact that Alastor was going to kill someone permanently _for_ his brother. That was information enough, so he set one of his own pistols on the table. It was a physical one, not magic, with a silencer on the end.

"Whoever it is, get a close shot. Put it in his brain. Then dig the bullet out and bring it back." Arackniss said sternly. "Don't like wastin' this shit…"

"I assure you it's for a good cause!" Alastor chirped, checking the safety on the gun before tucking it out of sight under his overcoat. 

"Yeah, sure it is." Arackniss replied dryly.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor corrects a situation and brings Angel a gift.

Armed properly, Alastor made a quick detour to Rosie's to change into something more along what Angel Dust would wear. It felt awkward to go without the binder. Even moreso to leave the first few buttons open to show some fluff. Alastor was certainly not a fan of feeling exposed, but a little misdirection was needed to get close to his target of the day. He practiced Angel's accent on the way, trying to emulate the other's speech patterns and body language. 

As expected, several demons attempted to speak to him with clear ulterior motives. He ignored them and walked faster, finding himself at the Studio in no time. Several demons in varied states of undress greeted him warmly and he had to dodge a nude hug. Someone asked where Angel had been. Another said to leave him alone since he looked like he was having a bad trip. Alastor was glad for that excuse given to him to rush past the strangers. Finally, he found Valentino's office. 

The moth was in, standing at the front-facing window and clearly having seen the current-spider enter the building. 

"You ready to apologize to Daddy?" Valentino asked, his tone sweet even as he showed off the hand Alastor had shot. It had healed completely. "Got that bratty streak out of your system for now?"

Alastor could have snarled and spat at him, but he needed to be allowed close. He had to be compliant. He didn't have his magic. All he had were Angel's guns which would be altogether too short term of a solution and the physical gun Arackniss had loaned him. There was only one bullet and no room for mistakes. 

"Yes Mister Valentino."

"Well?" Valentino challenged, raising a brow. "I'm listening." 

"I'm sorry." Alastor said, secondary hands clasping behind his back.

"I'm sorry, what?" 

"I'm sorry...Daddy." Alastor wished he could just shred the insect and be through with it. 

"For?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy, for shootin' your hand." Alastor clarified hoping that it would be enough to end this repulsive verbal ring-around.

Valentino considered, making a big show of hemming and hawing over whether he thought who appeared to be Angel deserved his forgiveness. Finally he snapped his fingers. Alastor twitched at that, expecting a display of magic. None came, the snap just being a way for Valentino to assure he had the other's attention.

_He doesn't hit me,_ Alastor remembered Angel saying as if there weren't worse things. As if that one fact made it any better. It shouldn't and it didn't.

"Well, I'm feeling generous. Lucky for you." Valentino stated. "Although...Vox has told me he's seen you and that deer hanging around each other lately. Trading fashion, even. You been fucking him? Letting him in for free since he's buying you clothes and shit? Practically dating, aren't you? Is that why you went and got rebellious all of a sudden?"

That wasnt at all what was going on but it was nice to know both Valentino and Vox were both clearly ignorant of the switch. Alastor wasn't sure how to answer that without giving the situation away. He hesitated. Valentino seemed to think the pause was answer enough, and spoke over him when Alastor finally opened his mouth.

"I think," Valentino said, pushing a stack of photographs and paperwork to the side. "That you need to be reminded who you actually belong to. Get on the desk." 

Well it would be the close range Alastor hoped for, though he didn't like the form it was taking. Still, it would be over soon. For the moment he was obedient, taking a seat on the desk and facing Valentino. The moth took a hold of his face, unwanted but expected. Alastor pulled away, not willing to go so far for the sake of acting. He didn't have to. Distracted by an attempt to kiss, Valentino failed to notice Alastor draw the weapon.

Alastor pressed the end of the gun harshly into the soft flesh under the moth's chin hard enough that he could feel when Valentino swallowed nervously. He could tell this particular firearm wasn't one of Angel's usual magically formed ones.

"He told you _no._ " Alastor snarled, dropping the facade of being Angel as he pulled the trigger.

The muffler kept the sound contained to the room. No one was the wiser for now, at least until someone came to check or anyone outside noticed the pimp's brain decorating the window. Surely there was a little time before that, though, so Alastor put the gun away in favor of a large serrated knife he'd concealed in Angel's boot.

It was a few hours later that Alastor returned to the hotel. He was back in his own more modest attire and was carrying a pink and white striped hatbox, a gold ribbon tied around it to keep it shut. He ignored Husk's curious look, sparing no time to explain before he was up the stairs to knock politely at Angel's door.

It was becoming less strange to see his own face squinting back at him.

"Monocle." Alastor reminded softly.

"Oh shit no wonder." Angel agreed, realizing why he even needed to squint at the moment. He turned to step back into the room and pulled the monocle from the edge of his vanity and put it on. "Hey, have you noticed your bad eye is my good eye?"

Nuggets cheerfully waddled out from under the bed to greet Alastor. 

"Oh, your vision is fine!" Alastor tutted, bending to pat the pig. "I'm getting used to the migraines anyway." He then held up the hatbox. "I've brought your surprise!" 

"I got somethin for you too!" Angel stated rooting through a drawer and pulling out a green sort of mesh. He held it up, revealing it to be a mug-cozy in the shape of an alligator.

"Oh," Alastor said softly in surprise, passing the hatbox to his lower arms and taking the cozy. "It's just like Missy!" 

Angel took the offered hatbox but didn't open it. With the smile on Alastor's face it was easy to see him past Angel's own face. Even better, the smile was real. Angel relished in the open joy of the other a while before finally opening the box. He gasped and immediately dropped it, a familiar head rolling out. 

"That's, oh my God." Angel sputtered, holding a hand to his mouth in shock.

Alastor noticed, wondering if this was a bad reaction. He was sure Angel would be happier to never need fear his boss again. Maybe he had misread something?

"It that actually…?" Angel asked.

Alastor nodded. "I did try to hide the stitches as best as I could. Rosie helped treat the skin. The eyes are glass and all soft bits were removed so it won't rot." He assured. "Is this… not to your liking?"

"This is the sweetest fuckin' thing anybody's ever done for me." Angel replied. "And probably pretty up there on the sick-scale. But hey, it's _you._ " 

Alastor smiled wider, not at all offended by the latter comment. He did however freeze when Angel pulled him down to kiss his cheek. Normally he wouldn't have allowed such things, but he enjoyed the warmth that it caused. 

"Oh. Sorry. I should've asked, I didn't mean--" Angel began sputtering out apologies.

Alastor wasn't sure how to react but he didn't want Angel to think the act of affection was unwanted. Chasing the feeling of warmth and acting on his first impulse, he kissed Angel fully. Angel reciprocated.

And suddenly they were themselves again.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel and Alastor are back in their proper bodies, but not everything is right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the quiet. Too many ideas and not enough energy...or ability to focus...

Alastor had nearly forgotten how much it hurt to starve. To correct it, he went on a week-long binge which only halfway helped. He also was using the week of solid hunting, killing, and eating as a method of pushing other uncomfortable feelings out. It was as good an excuse as any for avoiding Angel at least. It didn't help. If anything, it hurt. The switch had been fixed so the Pull should have been gone. It wasn't a crippling need for proximity anymore, but Alastor couldn't ignore the want for the other's presence. He couldn't help but crave the closeness, but he felt he didn't deserve it.

Angel had assured him the kiss was fine. Welcomed even, but Alastor still felt that it was an impulse he should not have followed. It seemingly had fixed the switch at least but even Angel stated he should have asked before kissing Alastor on the cheek. A real kiss should have asked for permission as well. 

Angel had been taken advantage of far more than enough. Alastor was glad to have eradicated that particular issue and had no will to replace it with himself. Angel deserved better than that. Better than the same problem with new skin over old bones. Alastor could be better. Alastor laughed at himself when he realized he was actually starting to take the Princess's words to heart even if it wasn't in a way she had probably intended. 

At the end of the week he had spent hunting, avoiding, and processing, Alastor finally returned to the hotel.

Angel, for his part, understood that after so long having to be near each other to avoid hurting, the sudden freedom meant space was needed. He'd give Alastor all the space Hell allowed as long Alastor came back to talk to him eventually. He thought the kiss his fault. He'd technically started it and Alastor's reaction had been when he was still in the spider's body. Angel knew his own body well enough to know he had nearly-reflexive inclinations toward any form of physical intimacy. 

"And hey, it fixed shit so I ain't complainin'." Angel rambled, painting Nugget's hooves while Cherri brushed through the fur of his back.

"There's a 'but' in there." Cherri pointed out.

"But…" Angel agreed, sighing. "I think it'd be nice if it meant somethin'."

Cherri leaned back and grabbed a flat, heart shaped thing that was casually lying on the end table. "What is this?" She asked, prompting Angel to turn and look.

"You blind? It's a paddle." Angel answered, only to be whacked across the hip with it. "Owie," He whined, not actually hurt at all. "What the fuck?"

"It did mean something, you're just having a pity party for no reason." Cherri scolded. "You fucking reek of denial."

"Fine… It meant somethin' to _me._ " Angel admitted. "But I ain't gonna go assumin' shit on Al's end. Haven't even seen the guy in days anyway. Don't matter, once Vox gets over himself and starts sniffin' around he's gonna know who put the rat bastard down. Or think he knows, since Al did it lookin' like me."

Cherri's eye widened. "Wait, why would Vox know--?"

"Val has cameras in his office." Angel said plainly. "I'm surprised flatface hasn't come lookin' for me already." 

"...Shit." Cherri said softly. 

"Yeah." Angel agreed. 

"You want me to--?"

"No, don't get involved." Angel quickly cut her off. "I ain't tellin' you this to get you to blow shit up. I'm tellin' you this so somebody'll know what happened if I... disappear… But it hasn't happened yet! Maybe it won't." 

"I worry about you so fucking much." Cherri murmured.

"I'll probably be fine, long as I stay in the hotel and keep my head down for a while." Angel deflected.

Cherri left a few hours later, having stayed with Angel until the hotel's designated dinnertime. Angel ate little, but took a few snacks up to his room for later in case he needed them. Alastor's starvation had given him a habit of food hoarding even if he was no longer ever nearly that hungry. It had also put him in a routine of going to bed a few hours earlier than usual, and he was just settling into his blankets when there was a polite knock at his door.

"Always when I get comfy…" Angel huffed but stood and crossed the room to open the door. 

Alastor was there, his smile subdued but not gone. He looked exhausted, and somewhat disheveled. There was the stench of old blood on him pairing horribly with the coppery tang of the fresher sort. 

"Got it outta your system?" Angel teased, realizing that Alastor must have been taking care of the hunting urge Angel had neglected while they were switched. He hoped it was just that and not Alastor avoiding him, and the fact Alastor was here now made the avoidance less likely. Still plausible, but not enough for Angel to dwell on it. He opened the door further, allowing the deer the option to enter.

"For now." Alastor answered quietly, stepping into the room. "I don't suppose you've been feeling any leftover ambient magic?" He asked after the door closed.

"No? I don't think." Angel shrugged.

"I still…" Alastor began, but faltered. He shook his head and began again. "May I sleep here tonight?" 

Angel blinked, surprised at the request. They no longer physically needed to be near each other, so there was no reason to ask such a thing. Cherri's words echoed in his head; _It did mean something._

"Not smellin' like that." Angel answered, part of him almost amused when Alastor's face fell as he misunderstood the answer as a full rejection. "You can use my bathroom to shower. No sense goin' all the way to your room and back."

Alastor perked up instantly. Washing off the scent of his latest spree was well worth the reward of being near to Angel. They had formed a mutual respect and understanding while switched and it was lasting even after the magic had been corrected. What he perceived to be the Pull stirred in his chest, declaring itself something different but just as worthy of attention. It wasn't magic, Alastor had to concede as he went into the bathroom, undressed, and ran the water. It was purely himself that wanted to be close to Angel. 

It wasn't as much of a shock as he felt it should have been. Alastor was far more surprised when the bathroom opened a crack, a pale pink fuzzy hand darting in to switch the light off before disappearing just as quickly as all the light in the room did.

"Wha-- _Angel!_ " 

"I didn't look so you can't either!" Came the cheerful reply, followed by a bout of giggles.

"It's _my_ body!" Alastor pointed out, knowing Angel was teasing and that he could easily just turn the light back on and continue the task at hand. It felt more fun to give into the joke, however, and given his latest revelation and the fact both of them were creatures of impulse, his next words fell out of his mouth before his brain could stop them. "Come in here and get your eyeful then, if you must!"

Angel's laughter halted, shock silencing him for a moment and leaving them both in a tense silence. 

"I wasn't tryin' to--" Angel started. "I didn't mean nothin' by it…"

"I know. It's alright." Alastor assured, stepping under the spray of the shower and inwardly sulking as he inevitably wound up with water in his ears. Another pause, then to show sincerity instead of snark; "You can come in if you like."

"Good cuz I'm bringin' in pajamas for you anyway. Your suit needs a wash too and I still got shit in here that's fitted to you. It's pink but you'll live, sorta." Angel said, making light of it as he came in to place a small stack of folded clothes on the back of the toilet. There was a curtain so he couldn't see Alastor directly. At the moment he hardly cared.

"I like pink anyway." Alastor said, mildly surprising the spider.

Angel snorted. "Bullshit."

"I do! Why wouldn't I?" Alastor said, surprising Angel even further as he pulled the curtain open and turned the water off, having washed as quickly as possible to avoid having to be in the water for too long. 

"Because you're an edgy bastard and pink is my thing." Angel said, unable to resist a downward glance before his sense of self control took over and allowed him the willpower to look at the ceiling instead as he handed the deer a towel.

"Pink is just diluted red." Alastor corrected, noticing Angel looking but not caring. He had invited him in after all. "Which is clearly my favorite. I will concede that pink looks better on you though."

Angel smiled, leaning against the bathroom counter. He just enjoyed the fact that Alastor was done avoiding him now, and hoped things would stay that way. Or at least that they would stay until Vox stopped grieving or whatever long enough to look at the camera feed. He considered bringing up that little detail to Alastor, but decided not to. 

Not yet. 

Just for tonight, he wanted them both to be able to relax.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some brief gore.
> 
> Sorry this took so long.

The longer Angel didn't hear anything from Vox the more anxious he got. The other shoe had to drop sometime. Only question is why was it taking so long?

"You look bothered." Alastor stated, drawing Angel's attention that he'd been staring past the back wall of his closet for a few solid minutes. 

"Just thinkin' Vox should've done somethin' by now." Angel admitted, and explained what he had to Cherri while he continued to toss things over to Alastor so the deer could sort them.

During the switch they had to get clothes that fit their styles and different body types, and now that they were back to normal they were seeing what they wanted to trade or get rid of. Nuggets was even helping, rooting through and burying himself in one of the piles. Angel sighed as he held up the red thigh high boots, lamenting the fact his feet and legs couldn't fit them anymore.

"Angel," Alastor said softly, catching the boots as they were tossed to him but setting them aside instead of putting them in either of the Keep or Lose piles. "You pulled the trigger."

"Don't fuckin' blame--"

"That's not what I mean." Alastor quickly interjected. "I didn't have my magic at the time. I only had what _you_ have. You don't need anything other than what you have already to stand up for yourself. You physically could have done the same at any point. You didn't because you were afraid. The only difference is a state of mind."

"Fuckin' easy for you to say…" 

"I have fears too, but a useless flatscreen is not one of them. And if you are afraid keep in mind that I am with you." Alastor continued, and dug in a pocket to pull out the glowing ethereal silver pellet. "And I haven't yet returned this to your brother, so surely we have it in our favor until then." 

Angel blinked, then huffed. "It needs a new shell if we're gonna shoot the fucker."

"A rock will go through a screen if it's flung hard enough." Alastor reasoned, and held the boots up. "Just need good aim. Now, Niffty gave you so many compliments on these, do you think I should hold onto them? They are certainly my color, though the heel is a bit much..."

Angel chuckled weakly. "Do you even know what they're from?"

"They're _from_ something?" Alastor asked.

"Yeah. Broadway show called Kinky Boots. It's fun."

Alastor dropped the boots quickly and they hit the floor with a clunk.

"It ain't what it sounds like. I got the soundtrack, you might like it." Angel waved a hand, leaving the closet and moving to his shelf to pull a cd case down. He passed it into Alastor's no empty hands, only for the deer to huff.

"I don't suppose you have it on a record instead?"

"Fuckin' old." Angel snorted, taking it back and putting it into his own cd player so they could listen together while they finished figuring out the clothes, the spider explaining the plot between songs.

Vox scowled, trying to figure out what he was missing. All of the time he spent theorizing over what Alastor's game was with the sudden wardrobe and behavior changes when he should have been keeping a better eye on the spider. Of course Alastor would use the pimp's favorite whore to get close, taking an interest in Angel to gain his loyalty. Then take out Vox'd boyfriend to kick him while he was down.

"Well it ain't going to work." Vox muttered, checking the next camera angle for what had to be the hundredth time now.

The only thing truly out of place he could see was the gun. It wasn't one of Angel's. Vox knew the spider could manifest his own soulbound weapons and those had a certain look to them. This new gun was a physical one. Sturdy.

There was also the matter of the spider dropping all pretense of flirtation and niceties to saw the Moth's head off. Vox couldn't watch it at first. He had no trouble with gore for the most part, movies and internet videos of such things having desensitized him to it but Valentino was someone he _knew._ He eventually had to. Any detail was important, no matter how small. 

The decapitation itself wasn't actually too bloody. Valentino's heart had to have stopped by the time Angel started sawing, starting at the spine. There was no flashy arterial spray. Just a clinical sort of... professionalism. Like it was a normal thing for Angel, which wasn't right. Angel wasn't bothered by standard violence but Vox knew he wasn't one to give any attention to a body when it was down.

Focus turned almost to glee on the spider's face as he pushed his hand up through the throat of the severed head, digging out bits of brain matter until he pulled out the glowing silvery bullet. That was definitely wrong. The Angel Vox knew would have sooner vomited then put his bare hands inside of anyone's skull just to root around. Then again, holy metal was rare and a bullet was worth reclaiming. Still, the smile was off.

"It's not Angel…" Vox realized, speaking to himself.

Vox catelogued the time of day it had happened and tuned into the street cameras to follow the spider's movements before and after. Not-Angel had started at the Hotel of course, gone to Rosie's, headed to the Studio in a somber state as if he were going to his own funeral, back to Rosie's in a much more cheerful manner so obvious he was practically skipping and stayed there a while, in with the head and out with a hatbox.

"What the fuck." Vox sighed, thinking. Alastor had to be involved, that much he knew, but what was Rosie's angle? 

Rosie was known for being an artist in soulstitching. Possession, object binding, severing. Nothing could truly be haunted in the afterlife but Rosie could attach souls to things and rip them away just as easily. Many a demon who had been unfortunate enough to end up in debt with her ended up out of their body and inside of a mannequin or marionette to work for her. She was fair, but people were stupid. Maybe she had done something similar to Angel on Alastor's instruction? The two were friends, after all.

What was with the head, though? Alastor usually wasn't one to take trophies. He prefered function over form. If he did really want a mounted head he also would have taken the body for meat, surely? Things still weren't quite adding up to Vox, so he continued to look into it.


End file.
